The Hounds of Winter
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: And so summer rolled in and Washington welcomed the heat. And Sam and Ainsley continued having fun.


Title: The Hounds of Winter

Author: Melanie-Anne

Email: melani_anne@yahoo.com 

Rating: PG

Category: Romance, Angst, Character death

Spoilers: Season 2, mainly ITSOTG, BTSOTU, 17 People

Archive: Anywhere, just ask. I like to visit.

Disclaimer: Last time I checked they weren't mine. Wait . . . nope. Still don't belong to me.

Summary: And so summer rolled in and Washington welcomed the heat. And Sam and Ainsley continued having fun_._

* * *

It snowed the night she left. Still, the cold outside was worse than the ache he felt in his heart. He wanted to run after her and take back all the harsh words between them. Instead, he stood by his window and watched her leave. His breath misted the glass and he reached up to wipe it with his shirtsleeve. Hoped for one last glimpse of her, but she was already gone.

* * *

__

April. Spring. The season for beginnings. Two people were still oblivious to the secret that seventeen others kept, free of that burden, free to pretend that life was almost perfect.

"You were lying about the pastries, weren't you?" she said, her forehead creased in suspicion. He nodded, feeling like a naughty schoolboy caught dipping the plaits of the girl in front of him into the inkwell. She shoved the tray into his hands and whirled around, her ponytail flying behind her. He smiled.

"Scared of coming down to the Mess all by yourself?" she teased. "Afraid of the White House bogeyman? I heard he roams the hall after dark, looking for distracted staffers."

"Actually, I just wanted your company."

She looked at him; a backward, over-the-shoulder glance that set his blood racing. Her hair should be loose, he thought, down her back. And lose the sweatshirt. When she smiled, he realized his hands were shaking.

"Sam?" Her tone belied her confusion; he'd caught her unawares. There was a trace of nervousness too, the same nervousness that pulsed through him. He set the tray down and stepped towards her. As his hand touched her arm, she turned around and looked up at him. 

"Ainsley, I—" It was all he got out before she pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

He was restless, replaying their last conversation over and over in his mind. The evening had started out so well – dinner at their favorite restaurant, coffee back at his place, almost no politics. Then one of them (he couldn't remember which one) had brought up gun control. They'd argued. She knew how personal this subject was to him, but she had pressed.

To be fair, he hadn't held back and had returned fire with equal fervor.

When she slammed the door on her way out, he remembered that she'd wanted to talk about something. If it was important, he decided, she'd call later.

* * *

__

The merry month of May.

Truly, it was. They were giddy with the excitement of a secret romance. If anyone found out that a Republican and a Democrat were seeing each other, members of both parties would call for blood.

The Republicans would call her a traitor, the Democrats would wonder if he had lost his mind and the West Wing would probably just be relieved that Washington was talking about something other than the President's MS.

Besides, they said, it wasn't serious. Just a fling. They were just having fun. No strings.

And so summer rolled in and Washington welcomed the heat. And Sam and Ainsley continued having fun.

* * *

He noticed that she'd left her gloves behind. Tiny gloves for her tiny, perfect hands.

He wished he didn't miss her. He wished that it was still a fling, but then, it had never really been a fling.

He wondered when he had fallen in love with her, and why it had taken so long for him to realize it.

He had to tell her.

* * *

__

On a warm June night he rolled over in bed and his breath caught in his throat. She was on her side, her back to him, her hair fanned out across the pillow. In the moonlight her skin was pale and smooth – alabaster, he thought with a smile. He inched closer to her and combed his fingers through the silken threads of her hair. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, closed his eyes and decided this was heaven. If he could capture one moment in time, this would be it.

He shifted closer and spooned against her, his arm curled possessively over her stomach. She mumbled his name in her sleep and he could tell by her tone that it was a good dream.

He smiled.

* * *

Her phone rang and rang and rang. He had just about given up hope when she answered with a breathless hello.

"Ainsley, it's me."

There was silence from her end of the line.

"I'm sorry," he said. And then, "Can I come over?"

* * *

__

Josh found out on the Fourth of July. The President insisted that everyone spend the day with him and his family. Working together made them family, he said, and besides, he was going to barbecue. Ainsley was included in the invitation only because the President had interrupted the latest night of speechwriting.

No one minded. They all liked her, but they teasingly reminded her that she was working for the enemy.

Sam told her later that if she hadn't been invited, he would have brought her anyway.

They snuck off to the Residence kitchen for a moment of privacy. Sam pressed her up against the refrigerator and kissed her with a fierceness usually reserved for the bedroom. When they broke apart to catch their breath, a discreet cough informed them of Josh's presence.

"It's about damn time," he said with a smile, then left. Sam and Ainsley giggled like two teenagers and then he kissed her again.

* * *

She stared at the phone long after he'd hung up. He was on his way over. To talk, he'd said. 

That's right, she thought, we never got to talk. 

So his coming over was a good thing. There was much to talk about.

She didn't know why she was so scared. She hated to admit it, but for the first time in their relationship, she was afraid for the future. It was why she'd started the argument – anything to avoid the inevitable conversation.

She sat down and waited.

* * *

__

"I don't care what Toby says," she said. "It's a stupid plan. There's no way—"

"Ainsley, just listen for a minute. If you take time to think about it, it'll make sense to you."

"Why do you think you're always right? Because you're not. Yet you and Toby and Josh—"

"Work for the leader of the free world. I'm guessing we're right more often than not."

She groaned and dropped down into her chair. Her "office", also known as the steam pipe trunk distribution venue, had been a sauna in winter. Now, in August, it was hotter than hell. Fresh air might do both of them some good, but they were too stubborn to leave the room until the matter was resolved.

"Y'all are so full of yourselves, you know that?"

He leaned across her desk. "Do you know how hot you are when you're like this?"

"Right. That's why you hired me. Because I'm a blonde, Republican sex kitten." She tossed the words back with a carelessness that might have hidden how tense she was, if he didn't know her as well as he did.

"I didn't hire you. Leo did."

"And he's as full of himself as the rest of you!"

"Come on, Ainsley."

"Samuel Seaborn, I am not in the mood for this."

"Ains—"

"Out!" She pointed at the door.

* * *

She didn't expect another phone call, and she was certainly unprepared for Josh's voice.

All it took was five words: Ainsley, there's been an accident.

Five words, and she knew exactly what Donna and Abbey felt that awful night in May.

Five words for her world to fall apart.

* * *

__

"I love fall," she told him late one night. "Spring is just green and everything's melting and messy. Fall is gold and red and orange."

"But then comes winter," he said. "I can't stand winter."

"But then it's spring." She snuggled against him.

"And then fall again." 

"Yep." She chuckled. "Everyone is happy for at least one part of the year."

"I guess."

They sat in silence for a long time until she asked, "So why do you hate winter?"

"Because everything is dead."

She pulled back so she could look at him properly, and cupped his cheek in her palm. "Not dead, just sleeping."

"Waiting for spring."

She nodded.

"Not dead, just sleeping," he echoed. "I like it."

Later that month, he used it in a speech, and she decided then that she was in love with him.

* * *

They seemed surprised to see her at the hospital. Sam's friends: Josh, Donna, Toby, CJ and Charlie. Huddled in a group in the waiting room to share their pain and worry. She, the outsider, looking on. She realized then that as friendly as these people had been, she had never belonged.

Josh saw her and he alone knew how she felt. He crossed the room and enveloped her in a hug. "It's bad," he said.

He led her to the group and she discovered she'd been wrong. CJ made space for her to sit between her and Toby.

"He'll be okay," Toby said. She wondered who he was trying to convince.

"He'll be okay," she repeated. He had to be.

* * *

__

She dressed up as a Playboy bunny as a Halloween joke and told him he wasn't far off with the sex kitten remark. He took a picture and said he was going to use it as wallpaper for his desktop. She smiled and threatened to withhold sex if he did. He hurried to assure her that the photograph was already forgotten.

Her real costume – she didn't dare parade around with bunny ears and a fluffy tail at Donna's party – was a floor-length, white ball gown. With a wand and wings, she was the SugarPlum fairy. When Sam asked where on earth she'd found the dress, she mumbled something about the South and debutantes and her cousin Irma.

Sam told her she was beautiful and she laughed and said it was the fairy dust. He shook his head and kissed her, and they almost didn't make it to the party.

* * *

A coma, the doctor said. Swelling on the brain. The possibility of neurological damage. Broken ribs. A shattered wrist. Major blood loss. No spleen.

Where was the good news? Ainsley wondered.

She left the others in the waiting room and sat by his bedside. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have left."

The heart monitor kept track of his pulse. A ventilator helped him breathe. An IV dripped much-needed drugs into the shell of his body.

She let the tears fall free down her cheeks and clasped his unbandaged hand in hers. "Sam, you've got to wake up. There's something I didn't tell you, and I can't do this alone. Okay? God, please let him wake up. Please let him be okay."

If God heard, he didn't answer. Perhaps he had better things to do, she thought bitterly.

"You know he loves you."

She couldn't find the strength to get to her feet but managed to raise her head to look at the President. "What?"

"He's in love with you. Oh, don't look at me like that. It's obvious to anyone. You light up when you're together."

She looked back at Sam. "I really need him to get well."

The President put his hand on her shoulder. "So do I. So do we all."

* * *

__

She took him home for Thanksgiving. Her brothers glared at him the second he stepped foot inside her parents' house. He swallowed his nervousness and greeted them with a smile. Her mother welcomed him with a hug and a smile. Her father asked if he was the same Sam Seaborn his daughter had made a fool of on Capital Beat. When Sam said yes, he clapped him on the back and laughed.

He took Sam up to the guestroom. "My girl's a spitfire, eh?"

Sam nodded.

"Tough on the outside, but tender on the inside."

Sam nodded again.

"I don't need to tell you what will happen if you hurt her, do I?"

Sam found his voice. "No, sir."

Not even Ainsley escaped her father's interrogation. He ambushed her in the kitchen.

"Are you happy?"

She looked up from the refrigerator. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Do you love him?"

"More than I thought possible."

There was a pause. "Is he planning on making an honest woman out of you?"

She blushed. "Daddy! We haven't . . . I . . . I don't know . . . we haven't spoken about it . . . it's complicated. I mean, we both work in the White House – and by the way, I'm surprised you don't have a problem with his politics – and if people knew we were, you know, involved . . . how can you even ask something like that, Daddy? I—"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Ainsley! You're my little girl. And no matter how big you get or who you work for, you will always be my little girl."

"Dad." The word came out as two syllables. She threw her arms around him, the way she used to as a child.

"Now, you'd better go rescue that boy before your brothers get carried away."

"Daddy!" She lightly tapped his arm before hurrying out.

* * *

She decided she hated the doctor. There was very little brain activity, he'd said the day before. And today: have you ever considered organ donation?

* * *

__

He kidnapped her for New Year's. When she was finally allowed to remove the blindfold, she discovered they were on the Chesapeake.

"A friend's house," he said, thoroughly pleased with himself. He led to her the water's edge and pointed across the bay. "There'll be fireworks over there later."

She chuckled. "We could always make our own fireworks."

He drew her against him. "I like the way you think, Miss Hayes."

"Only when it suits you."

"Great minds . . ."

She laughed again and pulled him down to the ground. When it was too cold to stay outside, they went in and made love in a huge down bed. It was the first and only time they didn't use contraception.

When January came, Ainsley would be glad about that.

* * *

The President spoke, his voice echoing sadly through the church. It was strange for everyone to hear his words and know that never again would they be Sam's.

She sat in the front row, between her father and Josh. Across the aisle was Sam's family; afterwards, she would introduce herself to them. She would tell them everything except that it was her fault Sam had died.

"I don't believe that death is the end," the President said. "I believe we'll meet Sam again, we'll come full circle. He told me once that someone had said winter is not a time of death but of sleep. One day, each of us will have to sleep . . ."

Her hand rested on her abdomen as if that action could protect the life she carried inside, invisible to everyone. Only one other person knew, and only because he had been there when she had told Sam. She hadn't been able to let him die without knowing.

The other person paused in his speech to look at her from the pulpit. His expression softened and he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "There is a time for everything," the President said.

* * *

A time to be born and a time to die. Ecclesiastes 3. Ainsley memorized the entire passage. It was hard to believe that only a month had passed since that night at the Chesapeake. Five days since the accident.

A time to kill and a time to heal. Three days since life support was turned off. Three days since a twelve-year-old boy could see again, since a dying forty-year-old received a new heart. Three days since Ainsley stopped believing in hope.

A time to tear down and a time to build. Two days since she buried him.

A time to weep and a time to laugh. She couldn't remember what it felt like to smile. She thought of her unborn child and knew she had to hold on to life.

A time to search and a time to give up. One day since she resigned from the White House and got on a plane to North Carolina. Washington no longer had anything to hold her.

* * *

A time to tear and a time to mend.

She returned to Washington in the fall. Her favorite season. Red and gold and orange. She liked it because everything seemed so alive – one last burst of glory before the hounds of winter claimed the world in sleep.

She came back because everyone wanted to see the child. Sam's child. What he had left them. What he had left her.

Elizabeth Samantha Seaborn. She had a mop of dark curls, blue eyes, and her father's smile. It surprised Ainsley to find that it didn't hurt to look at her.

More surprising was that she had missed Washington and the people in it. When she walked into the West Wing, it was as if she had never left. 

Almost. A young man now occupied Sam's office and shyly introduced himself as Will Bailey.

Donna, Ginger and Margaret cooed over Elizabeth until Abbey arrived and announced it was her turn. CJ hovered behind the First Lady until Abbey reluctantly handed the child over. She didn't have Elizabeth for long before Toby demanded an introduction. Josh hugged Ainsley so tight she thought he was afraid she'd just disappear. The President told her she was looking well. Over his shoulder, she saw Leo leaning against the wall and smiling.

"You want your job back?" the President asked. "We're running short on Republicans around here. Especially the sex kitten kind."

It felt good to laugh. Ainsley felt like she had come home. She took Elizabeth back, looked around the room at her friends, and smiled.

"As long as you don't put me back in the steam pipe trunk distribution venue."

"Done," the President said. He took her elbow and steered her gently to the Oval Office. "Now, tell me all about Elizabeth . . ."

* * *

FIN


End file.
